


A Morning Run

by EuropasKiss



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuropasKiss/pseuds/EuropasKiss
Summary: When Laurent offers to join him on a morning run, Damen is doubtful that there will be any actual running involved. And Laurent makes absolutely no attempt to prove him wrong.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 144





	A Morning Run

Laurent made a shuffling sound as he shifted, rolling lazily onto his back and twisting himself up in the duvet. He felt the slight chill of cool air on the tips of his toes, which were now peeking out from beneath the covers, but he was far too content to bother rearranging himself. He sighed a blissful sigh, that to the trained ear, sounded a little bit like “Damen,” and extended his arm towards the other side of the bed, fingers clutching, desirously. 

When they met no resistance and landed on an expanse of unoccupied sheets, his eyelashes fluttered, and his lips curled into a little frown. He moaned a soft protest as he ran his hand across the place where his lover ought to be. 

At this precise moment, he felt a swift tug of the covers, which were pulled down over his feet and carefully tucked beneath them. He yielded to the rest of the blankets being yanked and straightened out all around him, and carefully pulled up over his shoulders. He sighed again with sheer bliss, and succumbed to a rhythm of deep, measured breathing, almost too lost to sleep to feel the gentle sweep of warm fingertips brushing the loose strands of hair back from his face. 

But somewhere in the depths of his consciousness, he heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing, footsteps making their way to and from the direction of the shoe cabinet, and the gentle thud of runners being set down the floor. There was a sinking of the other side of the bed, followed by sounds and movements that were familiar enough, by now, for him to associate with socks, shoelaces and an impending departure. 

_Don’t go,_ he said, but it left his motionless lips as nothing but the softest whimper. 

He felt giddy, even in his sleep, when he felt the weight of Damen’s body at the foot of the bed, slowly moving towards him, until he felt the depression of hands at either side of his pillow and knees at either side of his body. 

“I’ll be back soon, Sleeping Beauty,” a voice whispered, “I’m going for a run.” He felt the tip of Damen’s nose brush up over his cheek, and his hot lips press a kiss over his eyelid, and then the other eyelid, and the bridge of his nose, and his lips, and then in a flurry all over his cheeks and chin and nose and forehead, making him exhale out a languorous chuckle. 

“God,” the voice whispered again, “you’re so fucking beautiful.” 

He broke free from the hold that sleep had on him just in time to reach out from the blankets and grab Damen by the font of his shirt, clutching him before he could pull away. “No… stay.” 

It was Damen’s turn to chuckle. “I need to go for a run, though.” He leaned back down, nuzzling Laurent’s cheek again, before pressing quick kiss against warm, sleepy lips. “Chances are I’ll be back before you’re even awake,” he said, brushing their noses together, and leaving one last kiss in the centre of Laurent’s forehead before pulling away – too quickly, this time, for Laurent to catch him. 

“Wait,” Laurent said, sitting up drowsily. “I’ll… I’ll come with you…” 

“I’m going for a run,” Damen said, assuming Laurent had misheard him. 

“Yes, I know!” Laurent strained his eyes open, peering up at the gigantic blur that was Damen, towering over the foot of the bed in his loose-fitting tank and running shorts. “I’ll come with you.” 

Damen perked a brow. “I thought you said you refuse to run unless something is chasing you.” 

Laurent stretched out his arms and said, almost incomprehensively in the middle of a yawn, “I’ll make an exception.” 

“O…kay,” Damen said, watching this peculiar situation unfold before him with slight trepidation. “You realise it’s still dark outside, right? And we were up late. And it’s a well-known fact that you’re not exactly a morning person, so if you’d rather just go back to sleep…”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want me to go running with you?” Laurent was awake enough now to shoot Damen are penetrating glare. 

“Uh… no,” Damen said, clearing his throat. “Of course not! I’ll, uh…” He pointed in the general direction of the front porch. “I’ll go outside and start stretching while you get ready. 

Damen stretched. And stretched. And stretched. Damen stretched for 45 minutes, watching the sun slowly rise up into the sky, while he waited for Laurent to “get ready”. In fairness, when Laurent did emerge, he was a vision in his fitted dark grey t-shirt, a sleek black lightweight jacket and dark compression tights, (which Damen vaguely recalled him having balked at receiving from his older brother for his birthday several months ago, only for them to have been stashed away in a drawer and never spoken of again). His hair was perfectly coiffed, his porcelain skin gleaming with the sheen of his designer sunscreen. He seemed better suited to a men’s clothing catalogue than an actual running track – but the adoring grin on Damen’s face made it clear that he wasn’t complaining. 

In fact, Damen was so besotted that without giving it much thought, he agreed to Laurent’s proposal that (in addition to the 45 minutes of stretching he had just completed) they would warm up with a brisk walk to the nearby lakeside running track, at which point, (Laurent assured him), the actual running would commence. 

They reached the track. 

“OH MY GOD.” Laurent clung to Damen’s arm and squeezed it excitedly, veritably hanging off him almost to the point of lifting his feet off the ground. 

“Oh my God,” Damen murmured under his breath. 

He had forgotten that at this time of the morning, the track became less populated by serious runners and was instead overrun with dozens… and dozens… of dogs and their owners. 

“Look at him! Damen, LOOK AT HIM!” 

Both the dog in question and its owner turned their heads to regard a delighted Laurent bounding over towards them. The dog was almost half the size of Laurent with an absurdly adorable face and a thick coat of tight, auburn curls. Its tail wagged madly as Laurent dropped down to his knees and petted it vigorously between its ears, and under its chin, and then he seemed to lose all self-control and simply hugged it close to him with both arms. Damen and the owner exchanged glances, the both of them mildly concerned that Laurent might never let go, especially as the dog itself was reciprocating with an enthusiastic lapping of Laurent’s cheek. 

“Okay, let’s go!” Damen declared when the owner had finally managed to tear his dog away, but they had run all of around six or seven paces before they came across a golden retriever, and then there was the Pomeranian, and then the Siberian husky. 

And inbetween there was the beauty of the lake that Laurent insisted on stopping to appreciate, and then photograph, stooping down to take carefully framed macro shots of dewdrops and caterpillars while Damen jumped up and down on the spot to try and keep his heart rate up and his blood flowing. 

On one such occasion, Laurent was so deeply focused on getting the perfect shot of a glossy ibis poised in the reeds that he didn’t look up from his phone for a full seven minutes, and only then at the sound of two female voices calling out “Hey Damen!” from the opposite side of the track. “We missed you this morning!” they said, their blond ponytails bobbing from side to side as they daintily sprinted their way over to Damen, who had been standing and watching Laurent with his hands on his hips, having decided that there was only so much jogging on the spot a man could reasonably do in one morning. 

They had been chatting for a minute or two under Laurent’s watchful gaze before he sauntered over, abandoning all interest in the glossy fucking ibis, or whatever it was called, and immediately interposing himself in the conversation. 

“Hello! I’m Damen’s boyfriend,” he said to the two women, linking his arm with Damen’s and pulling Damen close with a jolt that almost made him stumble. “Who the fuck are you?” 

There was a long pause, in which everyone in the circle stared at Laurent, until the two women suddenly started laughing, and Laurent started laughing, and Damen looked around wide eyed and utterly confused as to why everyone was laughing. 

“We’ll leave you guys to it!” One of the women said, still fake laughing, leaning in and kissing Damen on the cheek. The other followed and did the same, only this one kissed him on both cheeks and whispered something in his ear. Damen readied himself to hold Laurent back in the event that he should lunge forward and attack one or both of them. “Bye Laurent!” they said, almost in unison.

“What the fuck was that?” Laurent asked immediately after they left, letting go of his arm and shoving him off. “Is that why you wanted to come running without me?” 

“I didn’t want to come running without you!” Damen protested. “I just wanted to come _running_!” 

“With them? How the fuck do they even know who you are? How the fuck do they know who _I_ am?” 

“They know me because I stopped to help them once when one of them accidentally tripped and fell...” 

“Oh very fucking _accidentally_ , I’m sure!”

“And they know who you are because I literally talk about you to everyone I meet and I had just told them that I was excited to be running with you, this morning!” 

Laurent paused, peering at him out of the corners of his eyes. “Really?” 

“As in, are we _really_ running? No, obviously. Frankly, if we went any slower, we’d be going backwards. But yes, they know about you. They know you’re my boyfriend.” Damen reached out and poked Laurent in his side, making him flinch and smack his hand away. But Laurent was beginning to grin. 

“No, Jealous Laurent, come back, you’re so sexy!” Damen teased, laughing. He reached out and poked Laurent again, and again, tickling him till he was laughing and genuinely fighting back, trying to elbow Damen in the ribs. And when that didn’t work and the tickling became more merciless he shoved at Damen with his shoulder, knocking him off balance and jumping onto his back in an attempt to topple him. Instead Damen grabbed him from behind and ran with him towards the lake’s edge, pivoting his body as though to throw Laurent in. 

Laurent yelped and clung to him fiercely, letting loose a string of profanities that might have shocked Damen if he wasn’t so busy laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. He almost fell in with Laurent in tow, in spite of his intentions, but he just managed to regain his balance and stumble back towards the path. 

“Wait,” Laurent said, when Damen finally released him and let him slide down to the ground. “What’s going on over there?” 

Damen followed the line of Laurent’s pointed finger to a flurry of activity, visible through the trees in the distance. 

“Oh, the farmer’s market.” 

“Farmer’s market!” Laurent’s eyes lit up and he started bounding in that direction. 

“Hey!” Damen said, taking him by the wrist and pulling him back. We’re not going to the farmer’s market! We’re here to go for a run!” 

“Okay, well – let’s run to the farmer’s market!” 

“Laurent!” 

“I’m hungry! I didn’t have time to eat before we left…” 

“You had 45 minutes,” Damen mumbled quietly. 

“… and I’ll have more energy for running if I eat something!” Laurent continued. “Just an apple or _something_ … Seriously, I think my blood sugars are running low. How would you feel if I passed out and you had to throw me over your shoulder and run me to the hospital?” 

Damen sighed. “An apple?” 

“Sure,” Laurent said, grabbing Damen’s hand and pulling him along. “Let’s go!” 

The speed with which Laurent moved from stall to stall, loading up his purchases and swiping his credit card, far surpassed anything he had exhibited on the actual running track. Half an hour later they were sitting at a table by a coffee cart. Laurent was holding bags between his knees filled with baguettes, pâté, smoked salmon, hand churned butter, saucisson and every type of cheese that Damen had ever heard of, and some that he hadn’t. There were two espressos sitting on the table, along with an apple Danish that Laurent had half devoured. There were also apple muffins, apple and cinnamon bread and apple clafoutis. 

“I also bought you an apple pie!” Laurent said cheerfully, gesturing to an unopened paper bag on the table He took another bite of his apple Danish, holding his espresso aloft in his other hand. Damen rested his head in hand, and sighed. 

“Laurent, how are we going to run while carrying all of this?” 

“Aww,” Laurent said, with a sweet, doting, pouty face, reaching out and tenderly stroking Damen’s cheek. “You still think we’re going running, today. That’s so adorable!” 

In the end, Damen put his foot down… and demanded that if they were going to come to a farmer’s market, they were at least going to buy actual fruits and vegetables to prepare once they got back to the house. Laurent made a show of _very_ graciously agreeing to Damen’s demands. 

Damen stumbled home beneath the weight of their haul, while Laurent strolled happily beside him, working on the apple muffins. 

“Blood sugar levels okay over there?” Damen asked, peering over the heavy brown paper bags he was carrying. 

Laurent glanced back at him, with a grin. “Oh… much better. Thank you.” 

When they got back to the house, Damen charged Laurent with putting all his purchases away while he prepared them something healthy for them to have for lunch. Vegetable soup, he thought, would do the trick. 

“Vegetable soup?” Laurent repeated, scrunching up his dainty little noise. “Bad idea! What about a gruyere and prosciutto toasted baguette?” 

“No!” Damen protested, dropping the vegetables he was rinsing into the sink and realising, when he turned around, that far from putting away the food he had just impulsively purchased, Laurent was sitting up on the kitchen island with his feet swinging back and forth, surrounded by the brown paper bags and nibbling on a bread crust. 

“Laurent,” Damen said exasperatedly, “gruyere and prosciutto toasted baguettes are for people who run! Not for people who just sit around all day eating carbs and sugar.” 

“Oh.” Laurent said, raising an eyebrow, “Are you saying I’m getting fat?” 

“Of course not,” Damen said, emphatically. “I’m saying _I’m_ getting fat.” 

“Huh,” Laurent said, ruminating on his piece of bread and eyeing Damen. “Come over here. Let me see.” 

Damen sighed, theatrically, and wandered over, resting his hands on the island, at either side of Laurent. Laurent reached down and slowly drew up Damen’s tank, little by little, and let his eyes linger on the exaggeratedly sculptured washboard musculature that Damen was almost certainly flexing for Laurent’s pleasure and amusement. 

“You know,” Laurent said wistfully, tracing his fingers down the centre of Damen’s body, before tucking them just inside the waistband of his shorts, “I actually think this is fine.” 

“Fine?” Damen asked, stepping forward, lifting his hands up off the counter and pressing them over Laurent’s shoulders. “You really think so?” 

Laurent slipped his fingers in deeper, gripping the waistband and using it to draw Damen closer. “Oh, yes. I do.” 

They leaned in close, and closer, until just at the point where there lips where about to meet, Damen’s lips defected, landing instead on the tip of Laurent’s nose. Laurent grunted unhappily, lifting his hands to either side of Damen’s face and holding him still while he forced their lips together, his tongue languidly sliding over Damen’s lips before slipping between them, while Damen’s hands slid beneath Laurent’s backside, feeling the shape of him and clutching him in his hands, greedily. 

There was a moment, while their tongues were lashing and their hands wandering, when it became clear to both of them that they were past teasing and past playing. Laurent lifted Damen’s tank up over his body, Damen pulled off Laurent’s shoes and peeled off his tights. Damen kissed Laurent roughly, over his lips and the underside of his chin, his lips finally opening over the warm place in the crook of his neck where the caress of Damen’s tongue made Laurent writhe and gasp uncontrollably. 

When they were naked, Laurent sent the laden brown paper bags crashing to the ground as he laid back on the island, back arched, the length of his body shuddering violently as he felt Damen coil his fingers around his cock and drag them down slowly. 

“God, Damen” he cried, sweetly enough that Damen smiled happily in the instant before leaning over and taking Laurent into his mouth, torturously slow. 

It was slow until it wasn’t, and Damen was unrelenting, guided by every desperate cry and the push and pull of Laurent’s fingers, clutching mercilessly at his hair. They both moaned in unison at the pleasure of Laurent giving over, Damen swallowing back every last drop, licking the last of it from the tip of Laurent’s cock, and from his own lips, and from his fingers. 

He moved to lift Laurent off the counter, but Laurent pressed his hand against his chest and forced him back. 

“No. Fuck me right here.” 

“Okay,” Damen said, hardly in the mood for arguing with that proposition. “But I’ll be back…” 

“No need. Over there!” Laurent said, pointing to the ground. “My jacket, right pocket.” 

Damen stared at him for the moment, then bent over and picked the jacket up off the ground, pulling the little tube out of the right pocket. 

“Seriously? You carried this with you the whole time we were out?” 

Laurent shrugged. “I was feeling hopeful.” 

Damen laughed, and would have laughed heartier and for longer if the sight of Laurent lying there wasn’t driving him out of his mind. Before long Laurent was on his feet and bent over the countertop, their desperate voices echoing rhythmically off the walls and the charcuterie strewn floors while Damen fucked the life out of him. 

\- 

“Fuck, this is good,” Damen said, from where he sat on the kitchen floor, resting back against the island. "What did you say this was again?” 

“Gaperon,” Laurent said. He was laid out on the floor with his head resting in Damen’s lap. His eyes were closed but there was a half-smile on his lips. “I knew you’d like it.” 

“Want some?” Damen asked. 

Laurent answered by opening his lips, and Damen slipped a piece of the cheese between them. 

“Mmm,” was all he said, until he had swallowed. And then, quietly, “Lover?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Can I come running with you tomorrow?” 

Damen chuckled, brushing his thumb across Laurent’s lips with a swell of hopeless adoration. 

“Sweetheart, you can come running with me any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> My sincerest gratitude to Spiritheart for the prompt, the positive feedback and for encouraging me to write what I know xx


End file.
